To Get It Right - A Wedding Night Story
by austenhomegirl
Summary: Yet another D/E wedding night tale. Elizabeth is a sheltered maiden, Darcy is experienced and practically prostrate with lust. But he wants to take his time and make his new bride comfortable. Rated a strong M. Mature readers only, please.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I read a lot of P&P fanfiction, and I know Darcy & Lizzy's wedding night has been covered extensively. But there aren't many stories that really take their time exploring that night and the thoughts of each of the characters. I think it's important to realize gentleman's daughters in that day were incredibly sheltered and Darcy would have had to really draw Lizzy out and take it slow to keep her comfortable. BUT on the flip side, Lizzie is pretty naturally passionate. Makes for an interesting night, I'm sure! So this is my attempt to sketch all of that. Takes it's time in getting there, but I promise it's worth it. Let me know what you think. Warning: super explicit! Don't read if that will offend you!

I'm not Jane Austen, I don't own P&P, etc.

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Anticipation

The sun was shining on a crisp, snowy landscape on the day Elizabeth Bennet married Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy (of Pemberly and Derbyshire). The ceremony had been sentimental – as she shared it with her most beloved sister, Jane and her new husband's dearest friend, Charles Bingley – but the after-festivities had been necessarily brief. This, because the Darcys had to hie to London from the county of Hertfordshire some twenty-four miles away.

In truth, Elizabeth was not sad to have had only a short time to say goodbye to her friends, family, and the home she had known all her life. After all, she would be back. She would have chastised herself for her flippant lack of sentiment if it weren't for the fact that she was eager to be on her way to her new house in London – to her new life, a life she would share with the man sitting beside her now. Or, _beside_ her may have been a bit of a stretch. A truer assessment of the situation may have been to say that he was _sitting on the same settee with her, _or perhaps just _in the same carriage_. Given that he was pressed against the opposite window as far away from her as possible, he was hardly beside her.

He had been in this attitude for some time now, almost from the moment they left Hertfordshire. She was not truly vexed (at least at first). He did, after all, periodically reach for her hand so that he might kiss it or hold it whilst lazily caressing the palm. That alone was its own reward. And truth be told, she had initially found herself in need of a little space as well. This not because the newly married couple had already begun to be weary of each other's company; certainly not. But it was only true to state that things had become a bit…awkward after they pulled away from Longbourn, her family's estate.

As it was, they had been in a most delirious state of surreal happiness; happiness, and headiness. It was all happening so fast - the wedding, the exchange of vows, the celebration breakfast afterwards (where they alternated between paying every attention to the guests clamoring to congratulate them and stealing longing looks at each other), and then the hasty send-off. Then at last they were alone in the carriage, the congratulatory and well-wishing cheers of their friends and family fading behind them. At last they could each one look upon the other's dear face and…well…what, exactly?

Logic suggested this would be a good time to enjoy their first kiss as man and wife, and both were in favor of the notion. Such favor, in fact, that their heads moved simultaneously towards each other, their lips meeting halfway. They had not rushed the moment, but neither had it been particularly slow. This was no tentative meeting of the lips. It was more like a solid, straight-on-the-pucker kiss. Solid, but soft. It had not lasted for too long, as Mr. Darcy had pulled away slightly to gauge his new bride's reaction. When she gifted him with a small smile and a look in her eye that bade him continue, he moved back in.

Their lips met again, more familiarly this time. The next kiss was followed by another one, and then a third. Elizabeth was quite enjoying herself when Darcy had, with finality, briefly applied more pressure to her lips before pulling away, signaling the end of the kissing. She had not been sure what to do. She had wanted him to continue, but he seemed disconcerted. That was when he had given her a small, but regrettably formal smile, squeezed her hand, and then maintained it as he moved to the other side of the settee.

Now, she sat, two hours later, and barely a word had passed between them. It was not an angry silence, or even a bored one. In fact, she thought she would have preferred a bored one. For it was, in truth, simply an awkward silence. One that left her with nothing better to do than ruminate over his behavior – and hers.

She thought back to the kissing. For Elizabeth they were the first kisses she had ever shared – with anyone – and it had not been what she expected. She had often pondered her future husband's lips (and then blushed to have found herself out); wondered what their texture would be like, how they would feel against her own lips. She was pleasantly surprised to find them much softer than she had anticipated; but not very soft, as she imagined hers probably were. They were firm, but tender. And the kiss was quite enjoyable, at least for her.

Was that a possible reason for why he had pulled away? Had she been too forward? Wincing, she regretted that she might have. Perhaps he sensed how pleased she was and was put off. Part of her was embarrassed by the thought, part of her was chastised, and yet another part of her was defiant. Should she not enjoy her husband's kisses? Her mother, of course had said she would not, could not enjoy his kisses, or any other touch he might "force upon her." But, as she did to all her mother's advice, Lizzy had disregarded it. Immediately.

Her Aunt Gardiner, on the other hand, always gave sensible advice. And that dear woman had said that a woman in love enjoys her husband's physical attentions. Certainly, Mrs. Gardiner could not have been wrong. Yet, Lizzy granted, she was not a gentlewoman of the ton. Perhaps there were expectations among that class, her husband's class, that were different. Lizzy cursed her ignorance in such matters.

As she continued to sit and quite over-analyze the situation she grew more irritable with her husband and the quandary he had now put her in. If he was going to react this way after a simple kiss, how was she to know what to do when he took further…liberties? For she knew they were coming. Tonight. The thought made her head spin and her skin warm. She hoped he did not notice her rising color. She should be mortified if he guessed the source of her disconcertion. Stealing a glance at him, she saw that he was still placidly staring out the window.

Well, she thought, at least one of us is not the slightest bit worried about tonight.

Little did Elizabeth know, she was quite mistaken in the matter. Mr. Darcy was disconcerted over the coming night.

Substantially so.

As he sat opposite her in the carriage, he was not ruminating over his displeasure at her actions – he was trying to control his own. And he was caught in a maelstrom of emotions over the coming night. That he wanted to lay with Elizabeth and had wanted it even before they were properly engaged, or in truth, before she even knew of his true feelings for her, was irrevocable fact. He was a man, after all. And men thought about these things probably as often as cows thought about grazing. But beyond that, she was _Elizabeth_. The woman who had turned his head when not a single other woman who had crossed his path had even made him raise an eyebrow. Oh, yes, _physically_ speaking, he was no innocent. Much as he was loathe to admit it, he had not been able to keep his…appetite in line whilst waiting to find the right woman to make his wife.

But as far as his heart went, not a single woman had even come close to penetrating the outer shell – until her. She had, over the past year, turned him inside-out, upside-down, and slapped him every which way until Sunday. She was the most vivacious, witty, exciting, warm, courageous, and generous woman he had ever met. She had demanded a strength of character from him he had not even realized was lacking. In short, she had shown him himself. Yes; his Lizzy was a singular woman. That she was also beautiful and alluring beyond comprehension was delightful as well. As was her figure.

Oh, yes. Her figure.

Sitting on the seat with her, he felt a strong pull at his groin as he thought of it. He knew that true gentlemen did not dare let their eyes wander below face-level when in society with women. It was simply indecorous. Because of this it had always flummoxed Darcy that, as if to further strain the effort a man makes to conduct himself politely, fashionable society saw it necessary to cut women's gowns in the swooping, low fashion that put their décolletage best on display. But this fact never troubled Darcy more than when he was around Miss Elizabeth Bennet. For, although he knew he should not, he simply could not help observing that God had gifted this exceedingly alluring creature with a bosom so extraordinarily generous and milky white that it quite undid him. Added to that were the peeks of a slim, curvy waist and long, shapely legs that he had seen when the light hit her at just the right angles on their walks. She was the most maddening temptation.

And now this singular temptation, this woman, was his. All his. And only his. To do with as he pleased. And there were a thousand different things he could think of that he would be pleased to do with her, and to her. He was both overjoyed and over…stimulated. And therein lay the problem. He loved her, respected her, worshipped and revered her so ardently that he would never harm, embarrass or coerce her in any way in their marriage bed. She was an innocent and he must take things slow so as not to frighten her or offend her sensibilities. But his desire was such that he was not sure he could rein it in enough to be the man she deserved tonight.

It was quite vexing.

His entire life he had prided himself on his Darcy family self-control. He ran his estate with a competent, firm hand. He kept his mind sharp through constant reading and informed through active efforts to stay current on all things politically and socially relevant. He kept his body honed through persistent fencing and horseback riding. He was a most generous landlord and master. And, most importantly to him, he was an attentive, diligent brother to Georgiana. He was every inch the gentleman, in countenance, habits, attitudes and conduct.

But when it came to Elizabeth, he was put completely out of sorts. It had always been so. True, he had finally won the battle for her hand, but now came the truest test of his mettle. Could he put his own raging urges to the side to focus on what she would need from him tonight? If he were the typical man, he would not even entertain the question. _What is that old joke, _he thought. _The wedding is for the bride, the wedding night is for the groom._ To society at large, tonight was his time to finally get what he had so patiently waited for. And she…well, she would submit to his desires and hopefully learn to enjoy it. But he could not take that attitude. Not with Elizabeth. He wanted her to enjoy their conjugal relationship. Needed her to, in fact, if he was going to find any bliss in it himself.

But more than that, she deserved to enjoy it. She deserved to spend her wedding night with a groom who would have the bullocks to put her needs first and service her until _she_ was ready for the consummation he was so desperate to experience. She deserved to have him take it slow, put her at ease, bring her slowly to arousal as he helped her discover her body's capacity for needs and passions she had certainly never known it had. She deserved for him to enter her slowly, and only when she was properly…er, lubricated…she deserved for him to wait until the pain passed for her, and if necessary – oh God! Please do not let it be necessary! – _withdraw_ should she find it too painful. And if she could manage with the pain, he must take care to be gentle as he moved within her…thrusting into her…thrust…after thrust…after exquisite thrust…

He cleared his throat and shook his head soundly, seeking to clear his mind of the dangerous scene he had just created in it. Elizabeth, alarmed at his sudden discomfort, inquired if he was well.

"Perfectly well, my love," he responded with a pat on her hand and a brief grimace of a smile, "It is only getting a bit stuffy in this carriage, do you not agree?"

She sighed. He tried not to notice the swell of her breasts as she did so. "Indeed, it is. But such is the evil of traveling," she smiled fetchingly in his direction. "It is an evil I find I am quite willing to undertake given the destination."

Thereupon he gave a real smile and kissed her hand. She gifted him with an affectionate look that soon turned to…was it, curiosity? Or confusion? Before he could determine, she turned her face away, suddenly engrossed with something outside her window.

He was disappointed to have lost her attention, for he knew he had been an abysmal conversationalist these past few hours (as he had sat fretting over the impending trial of his honor), and sought to make it up to her. But this scenario had its advantages too. With her neck craned as it was he had the opportunity to appreciate the erotic slope of it, the way the sweet tendrils of her curly hair brushed it at its nape, and how their rich dark color contrasted with the creamy white of her porcelain skin.

Dear God, he needed out of this carriage.

"Would you like to have a rest? We could ask the driver to pull aside for a few moments so that we might stretch and walk about a bit before continuing on to the house."

Her brow knit in contemplation. "How far away are we? I cannot believe it is above an hour."

"Yes, just about an hour," he agreed.

She chewed her lip as she thought about it. He loved it when she did that. She looked so cute, like a contemplative child. He wondered at his own depravity that the expression that reminded him of a child also evoked in him the desire to press against that pretty mouth long, deep, moist kisses, the kind with heat. And preferably tongue.

"No," she finally stated, pulling him out of the salacious daydream he had once again slipped into. "I should prefer to continue on. I would rather just get there, if you do not mind. But, if you wish to stop, I am certain I may oblige you," she said with a cheeky smile.

He looked at her fondly. "If you wish to remain on the road, we shall. You are right; it is only another hour." _Another hour of absolute concupiscent torture_, he thought. Gathering his pride, he settled back against his seat and resolved to spend the time overviewing his plan for the night.

For it would be about her. Or he would never be able to live with himself again.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Final chapter before we get to the "good stuff." Darcy's gotta woo his lady. ;)

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Declaration

It was late afternoon by the time the plush Darcy carriage reached the limits of the city of London. Once they finally arrived at the townhouse, he let down the steps and waved the footman aside, determined to see his wife out of the carriage on his own. When she alit, he took her hand and kissed it, his eyes sparkling as a rare smile graced his face.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Darcy."

After that, the evening passed remarkably quickly. They had been greeted at the door by Mr. Mason, the house steward, before being lead in where the other servants, all gathered together, awaited their introduction. It was a brief affair, as everyone understood the couple was eager to relax after several hours of travel. Darcy had shown Elizabeth to her chambers, which were connected to his chambers via a massive shared sitting room. He gave her a few minutes to freshen up before taking her on an abbreviated tour of the townhouse. Promising he would give her an extended tour later, this tour included only those parts of the house that would be relevant to her over the next few days. Then they had both retired to their bed chambers to ready for supper.

Supper turned out to be a rather perfunctory affair, as the two newlyweds were most distracted. The subject which distracted them was unspoken, but mutually understood. So understood, that Mr. Darcy needed only to glance at his wife to cause her color to rise, an occurrence he found immensely endearing. Predictably, they had stayed in the dining parlor only as long as decorum dictated before retiring for the night. Darcy told Elizabeth to take all the time she needed to prepare herself, and to meet him in the sitting room when she was ready. They separated from each other in an awkward sort of begrudging hesitancy, both casting looks over their shoulders that could only be described as anticipatory.

A half hour later, Mr. Darcy's toilette was completed and he stood observing with approval the arrangements Harken, his valet had made. There was a tray of cheese, bread, and fruit on the table, along with a tray of chocolates and other sweets, and urns of water and wine. The room was sprinkled with vases of roses. Not overpoweringly so, but just enough that they were an obvious adornment and their smell hung sweetly in the air. The fire roared to perfection. The bear skin rug that lay before it on the floor was clean and inviting. These preparations were important, for he wanted to create a romantic environment that was also comfortable.

Pouring himself some wine with shaking hands, he sat down on a chair that was faced so that he could stare into the fire while also having Lizzy's door in his line of vision. Before long he found himself trying so hard not to get ahead of himself with anticipatory thoughts that he almost missed it when Lizzy's door opened.

However, almost is not the same as did.

For he did espy her as she stood in her doorway, her gaze searching for him. He would have been quite bewitched when at last her beautiful, maddening eyes finally alit on him and began to dance a smile. But as he was quite overtaken with both parts reverence and absolute carnal desire for every inch of her person below her eyes, he was safe from that particular spell. What he did see was his Lizzy with her long, bountiful hair hanging loose and cascading in soft curls around the lapels of a light pink dressing gown of silk that, tied at her waste and folded back on either side above the sash, did much to accentuate her figure. The placement of the sash commented on her narrow waist and that wondrous divide in her dressing gown did much to reveal that which her matching nightgown failed to contain – her generous bosom. He gulped at the sight, and at the thought that her nightgown must be very thin material indeed. His body's reaction was instantaneous and painful.

Standing and bowing (rather uncomfortably), he finally looked into her eyes and was melted to the core by what he saw. For those beautiful orbs that so bewitched him were looking at him with a heady mixture of adoration, trepidation, embarrassment, and – dare he hope for it – desire? But the most prominent of those emotions was most certainly trepidation. Immediately all his strength coalesced and formed behind one notion: tonight he was going to be so sweet and so selfless that she would never have cause to look upon him with trepidation again. He would be a man and lead her in this new experience. His strength would envelop her, his adoration would draw her out, his experience and skill would deliver her to the heights of passion.

There was no longer any question about it.

Walking slowly towards her, he took note when she stood looking him directly in the eye until he was upon her, at which time she looked down and away, in the most demure manner he had ever seen from her.

He would not have it.

"Lizzy, my love," he said, gently cupping her chin in his hand and drawing her gaze upward to once again look him in the eyes. Her gaze still held the sense of nervous anticipation he so longed to rid her of.

With all the earnestness and intensity which he truly felt he said, "You are so beautiful, and I love you so very dearly. More than I have ever, or will ever, love anything. For the rest of your life I shall be your strength, if you will have it from me. Allow me to be your strength tonight." He tenderly tucked a curl behind her ear as she stood looking at him with grateful adoration. "I shall ask nothing of you that you do not want to give. We shall take this as slowly as you need to. Can you trust me in this?"

Lizzy could hardly believe he had felt the need to ask her such a question. Could she trust him in this? He, who was the best man she had ever known? Of course. She would trust him with her life. She told him so. When he smiled gratefully, her heart fluttered.

"But," she added, feeling the need to be honest, "Trusting you does not mean I shall not be nervous. I am sorry if that will be…disappointing to you this evening. I shall endeavor to please you."

Almost before the words were out of her mouth he stepped closer to her with a stare as intense as only he could give and said earnestly, "No, Elizabeth, I shall endeavor to please _you_. Please know tonight it is only you I think of. I want to experience you, and I want you to experience…" He stopped. She looked at him quizzically. After a moment he said, "But we will get to that."

Wondering what he could have meant by that last statement, she soon forgot about it entirely, as he took her hand, gifted it with a kiss and then led her to where the fire was roaring. Sitting her down on a sofa, he went to fill her a glass of wine. She took the opportunity to look around the room and was in awe of what she saw. Not only was the room itself stunning and opulent, but it was dusted with bouquets of beautiful, rich red roses, tied off with black silk ribbons and spilling over the rims of marble gold and black vases. The effect was…she searched for the right word. _Sensual_, she decided with a blush. _They are sensual_.

Looking around she realized even more of the setting was sensual. There was little lighting in the room. The truly marvelous chandelier at the center of the room was only minimally lit. A few candles were burning on the small candelabras adorning the walls. Lizzy shook her head at the estimated worth of each of the solid gold candelabras, let alone the exquisite chandelier. She was indeed the wife of an exceedingly wealthy man now. It would take her some time to adjust to the reality that it was now her wealth as well.

Darcy walked back towards her with her wine. Smiling gratefully at him, she took it and darted her eyes over to the other side of the settee, indicating she would like him to sit next to her. She was confused when he didn't. Instead he stood staring down at her with those dark eyes which, quite honestly, frightened her sometimes with their intensity. It had been one thing when she disliked him and thought his gazing sprang from a similar disdain he must have held for her. Knowing now that when he stared at her as he was presently doing it was not from disdain but from a deep well of love, made her thrilled and scared at the same time. She wanted to look away to escape those eyes, but as he looked like he had something to say she returned his gaze expectantly.

"I have something for you," he said finally. Producing a deep purple bundle from behind his back, he handed it to her. Setting down her wine, she took it gingerly, for the fabric was clearly an expensive velvet variety and she suspected whatever lay within was even more valuable. Looking at him with eyes wide, she stated, "Oh, Darcy. You did not have to get me anything. We already exchanged our gifts earlier. Truly, this is not necessary…"

He shook his head in that matter of fact way of his. "That is of no relevancy. I wanted to give my wife a gift. It is a practice I plan to repeat. Often." His smile was almost cheeky. As always, that delighted her. It made her feel truly honored that the stoic Mr. Darcy let his formidable public mien slip away in her presence.

Returning the cheeky expression, she teased, "You may change your mind when you realize I have nothing to give back. It can be extraordinary how quickly generosity wanes in the face of non-reciprocation, can it not? Even you, Mr. Darcy, may eventually have done with a wife who seems content only to receive gifts and never to offer them. But alas, what is a simple country girl to offer up to the man who has everything?"

His cheeky smile faded and was replaced by the same piercing gaze from earlier. "You are wrong, my dear, much as I hate to correct you. You have much to offer me." His eyes roved down her person, sending a shaft of anticipation through her. Returning his eyes to her face, her breath was stolen when she saw his eyes had darkened. "You give me every beautiful thing that cannot be bought. Now please accept my gift."

His words were pleading, but his tone would brook no argument. Nodding, she bent to loosen the tie on the bundle and unrolled the folds of fabric until the object was revealed. She gasped.

"Darcy!" she exclaimed. "It is so beautiful. I have never seen anything like it! Is it…is that…it appears to be glass."

"Yes," he said, "it is glass. There is an island off of Venice known for its unique artistry. The people there have been practicing a form of art peculiar only to their island for centuries. They take glass and heat it to an extreme temperature over a fire and shape it into any form they like while it is melted and can be molded. They can also add colors, as you see. It is an extremely delicate affair, taking years to master. They call the practice glass blowing."

She listened with fascination and then returned her attention to the item laying exposed in her lap. It was the most unique hair comb she had ever seen. Apparently made completely of glass, the exquisite top was shaped into a delicate, fully-dimensional hummingbird with the most vivid, swirling colors adorning its perfectly formed breast and head. The bird's eyes, the only part of the comb not made of glass, were instead two bright diamonds. The place where the teeth met with the spine beneath the bird was shaped into a field of flowers. Elizabeth could hardly believe her eyes when she looked over the intricacy of the work. Every tiny flower was perfectly defined, with every petal visible. Every blade of grass was represented. Two bright butterflies were suspended around the bird, held in place on either side by a thin strand of glass cut into a lively spiral to represent the butterflies' dance. The effect was almost whimsical. The comb itself was only as big as her small fist. That the entire scene fit into a dimension so small, and so successfully, was truly a wonder.

She shook her head in awe, tears forming in her eyes. "I have never owned anything so beautiful. Was it your mother's?"

He looked down and away. Clearing his throat, he said, "Uh, no. It was not. I bought it recently, quite with you in mind."

She was confused. "I thought you said this was done only in that island off of Venice. You did not…did you send all the way to Venice for this?"

Eyes still averted, he was beginning now to look rather sheepish. "Yes, well…yes."

"By courier."

"No. I sent my own man."

"Well," she was flabbergasted. "How could he know which piece to pick out without your presence?"

There was more throat-clearing and feet-shuffling. "I sent him with a detailed description of what I desired to have made for you. I knew the hummingbird is your favorite bird…and the meadow scene seemed like a nice fit…for you…as you like to go on walks…"

She stared up at him as he talked, the expression on her face going from shock to awe and then finally to abject adoration. Not usually one to care much for material things, she was nonetheless blown away by his gift. It was undoubtedly the most thoughtful one she had ever received. Suspecting that the logical Mr. Darcy was not really one for gifts himself, the fact that he had put so much effort into her present showed how deeply he really did love her; that he valued her more than anything, including his pride. To have the haughty Mr. Darcy standing there shuffling his feet like a besotted pubescent buy was by her estimation the most adorable thing she could have ever asked to see.

Gingerly placing the comb back into its velvet casing and wrapping it back up, she placed it reverently on the table beside the sofa. Then, taking his hand, she bid him look at her. When he did, she spoke in a soft, earnest voice.

"This is the sweetest gift anyone has ever given me. I cannot tell you how touched I am. You are truly the most thoughtful man I have ever met." Smiling, she jested, "Is there anything you would not do for me, Mr. Darcy?"

He did not smile. He stared back at her, unblinking, then very slowly shook his head. "No."

When he looked at her that way she believed he truly would do anything for her. She was hit again with a wave of panic. What was she to do with a man who loved her this fiercely? Furthermore, what was she to do with herself, knowing she felt the same for him? Inquisitive by nature, she had to admit she was interested in exploring the answer to that question. Moreover, she knew now was the time.

Taking a deep breath, she tugged gently on his hands, drawing him nearer to her. He brought his long frame to the floor, and knelt on his knees before her. Bringing her hands to the sides of his face, she looked at him affectionately. She took a moment to take in her husband's appearance. He was truly a handsome man. She drew a finger down his jawline, and watched his eyes darken. With the same finger she traced his other features, from his eyebrows, to his aquiline nose, over his high cheekbones till she reached his mouth. At that, he turned his head to the side and grabbed her hand with his own to hold it to his kiss. When he rested his head in her palm and looked at her almost helplessly, she could only mirror the gaze.

_We are truly pathetic_, she thought. But somehow, she didn't mind it.

"Truly, I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you," she said, finally breaking the silence with a whisper. "But, perhaps…"

She could not bring herself to finish her sentence. It was too bold. Instead she looked away with a blush.

She heard his breath catch. "Perhaps what, Lizzy?"

She closed her eyes and smiled. She loved hearing him call her by her most intimate name. "Perhaps…" Again, she could not bring herself to say it. _Perhaps I could show you._

In the end it didn't matter. For he knew what she meant to say.

And she knew he would make good on it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here it is, folks: the moment you've all been waiting for. This is the explicit stuff. Please do not read if that will offend you.

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***Update:** In an effort to comply with the ratings guidelines of this site, I have edited this section since its original posting. I have no desire to see my story pulled for containing content more appropriate for an MA rating. I don't intend raunchiness; I intend romance. If you're a fan of the original, the story is still a _very_ strong M, and I don't believe I've lost any of the essence of the original posting. And hey, I've even responded to some of your requests and added an epilogue! **But** if you really feel like you'd like to read the unedited version, **it's now up at A Happy Assembly**. If you don't have an account at AHA, shoot me a PM and I'll oblige you with a PDF document version. If you're a guest and you're interested, maybe leave me a way to contact you through a review. Just be careful how you leave email addresses, they don't show up on FF if you enter them in traditional format. Usually it has to be something like JaneDatgmailDotCom. I'll edit out your contact info from your review before I allow it to post. Either way, thanks for reading!

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Consummation

Realizing his Lizzy was trying to finally initiate their intimacy, Darcy took her softly by the chin and turned her face back towards him. She kept her eyes closed, and her breathing had quickened. He knew she was expecting him to kiss her. He did not.

Instead, he dropped his hand to find hers, the one that had so sweetly cradled his face a moment earlier, and turned it over to press a kiss inside the palm. He moved his lips further up to place a kiss on the inside of her sweet little wrist. Then he leaned his forehead against it, needing a minute to adjust to the headiness of what was about to happen. She let him stay in that attitude for a moment, then smoothed her fingers gently over his hair. When he looked up at her she gave him a little smile of encouragement, those eyes that so undid him dancing warmly. At that, he rose up to her level, took her face tenderly in his hands, and kissed her sweetly, softly. His arms came around to encircle her, and he felt her trembling.

Pulling back, he placed his forehead against hers, running his hands down the sides of her face. "I love you so, Lizzy," he whispered.

She nodded, her breathing irregular. "I love you too…William."

He smiled at hearing her use that name for him for the first time. Her arms came up around his neck as he moved his arms back to encircle her, stroking her still-trembling back. He continued to stroke and soothe her till her trembling ceased, then spoke softly.

"I want you to know you can do nothing wrong tonight, Lizzy. Regardless of what your mother or any other woman may have told you, this is meant to be a most enjoyable activity for a man _and_ a woman. You will no doubt surprise yourself by your own reactions. I want you to feel them, to trust them; to trust me. I shall take care of you."

She smiled as her hands continued to caress his neck. "You always do."

He looked at her intensely for another moment before lowering his lips once more to hers. Kissing her more deeply than he ever had before, his hands moved to her sash. He untied it as he began to spread tender kisses along her face. Sliding one hand beneath her robe to take hold of her back, he moved his lips to her hair and held her to him, her face buried in his neck. He could feel her soft breathing as he inhaled her sweet scent. Still holding her to him, he used his free hand to slide one sleeve slowly over her shoulder and down her arm. Switching hands, he repeated the action, and watched as the gown slid to a silken heap on the sofa behind her.

Taking her head in his hands, he moved back to her lips. As they continued to kiss, softly at first, and then with more urgency, he moved his hands slowly up her outer thighs and slid them around to their backs. Gently nudging her knees apart with his torso, he moved between them and then used his hold on her to pull her to him. She gasped at their new closeness. It was the first time he had ever been between her legs. He stopped to gaze at her. She was looking at him quite engagingly, so he eagerly reclaimed her mouth. At the same time, he caressed her hips and ribs through the fabric of her nightdress. Her breathing quickened even more, and she made a soft sound in the back of her throat.

Moving his attentions away from her lips, he began to spread kisses to her chin, her jawline, down to her little ear and then finally, her graceful, erotic neck. He was ecstatic when she tilted her head back and sighed, clearly enjoying his ministrations. He took time with her neck, spreading hot, deep kisses along it slowly before granting her silent urging for him to return to her mouth once more. For a while, they got lost in these traveling kisses. During this time, hands traveled and slid and caressed. He was almost as aroused by her hands sliding down his arms and around to his back as he was by feeling her own curves.

Almost.

Pulling her all the way to him, he grabbed her by her bottom – oh! The glory! – and picked her up, straddling him, as he stood. She gasped again. It was all he could do not to smile against her lips. He hoped to keep her gasping all night long.

Carrying her to the bearskin rug, he knelt again at an incline to allow her to slide from his lap to the floor. He sat in front of her as she tucked her ankles behind her, facing him with a flushed face and a heaving bosom. My god, she was so tempting. He noticed when her eyes moved to the bulge at the front of his breeches, and fluttered away. He had no doubt she had felt it pressed against her as he carried her. _And that's not even the closest I intend for you to get to it tonight, my love,_ he thought hungrily.

Bringing his hands to the nape of her neck, he pulled her to him to resume the sensual kisses he had been bestowing upon her neck earlier. When he heard that sound in the back of her throat again, he could not help but respond with his own soft groan. He could not wait to get her moaning louder. As he moved down the length of her neck, he reached the soft hollow at its base and kissed it lightly. She sighed. He dipped his tongue into it. She sucked in her breath sharply, pushing herself against him.

Reaching for her shoulders, he gently pushed her back onto the rug. He let her lay like that in front of him, looking at him with wide eyes. For the first time, he let himself look fully over her in her night dress. He was not in the least bit displeased with what he saw. Quite the opposite. His already massive erection strained even more painfully in his trousers. Moving his hands again to her hips, he was pleased when she reached up to again smooth his hair. He grabbed her hand and playfully bit at it. She laughed. His heart soared.

He moved his hands to span her stomach, then swiftly moved to lay alongside her. Smoothing his hands over her abdomen again, he kissed it through the silk. She moved her hands from his hair to his ear, gently toying with it. He brought himself up slightly to move his kisses further up, to her ribs. He did not stop when he reached her breasts. He went right ahead with blazing a trail of kisses up the divide between them. Her breath caught at this new intimacy. When, in passing, the ample softness of her breasts brushed against the sides of his head he thought he might actually soil his pants right there.

He planned to keep blazing a trail all the way to her mouth, but she had other ideas. Grabbing him by the hair at the nape of his neck, she urged him up to her lips. He went gladly, kissing her for all he was worth. Her response was all he could ask for. She had been kissing him with passion earlier, but these kisses had a new sense of urgency. This was a good sign. She was beginning to lose herself. He thought he might try something more bold.

When they were in the midst of a particularly long, deep kiss, he tentatively separated her sweet, soft lips with his tongue. She allowed this. Carefully, he moved his tongue into her mouth until he found hers. She pulled back and looked at him with alarm. Dammit, he'd taken it too fast.

"I am sorry, was that not pleasing to you?"

"No, it's just...I was not prepared for it, I suppose. I am prepared now, please do it again."

He nodded and gathered her closer to him. Resuming the kiss, he waited until he sensed she was once again losing herself before trying again. This time her lips parted more readily, and when his tongue sought hers, she met it tentatively. He let his tongue briefly glide over hers before retreating. But not before she moaned.

He pulled back. "It was pleasing to you, then?"

She covered her face. "I am so sorry."

He was confused. "For what?"

"For…my reaction! I know it was most unladylike. Please continue, I shan't make that noise again, I promise." She reached for him, pulling him toward her, but he resisted and looked her intently in the eyes.

"My love, I want you to make any noise you please tonight, especially ones like that which passed from you just now," he assured her. "It will help me understand what is most pleasing to you, and I am most anxious to learn. Have you not enjoyed yourself so far?"

She blushed, but nodded.

"Then continue to do so. Remember, you can do nothing wrong tonight. Every little thing you do will please me. It is your passion and your curiosity I love about you, Lizzy. It is your passion and your curiosity I want tonight, do you understand?"

She nodded, and with that, he surged toward her lips again.

Chest heaving and breaths coming out in gasps between kisses, he pulled back one last time to look at her with eyes black as night. "And one more thing."

She, now as flushed and breathless as he, nodded expectantly.

"You have my every endorsement to behave like a complete wanton."

His lips came crashing down on hers once more, stifling any argument or protestation. The heated kissing business resumed rather speedily. He found himself glad for their little talk, for her body had lost some of its earlier tension and she began conducting herself with more abandon. A sure sign of this was when she reinstated that lovely tongue bit herself. This time it was his turn to sigh into her mouth.

Her hands moved to his chest and slid down to his abdomen. At this, he groaned. Apparently emboldened, she slipped her hand underneath the bottom of his shirt and explored beneath it. He grasped her hand and moved it downward, sliding it over his manhood. He could not stop a loud groan from escaping his mouth. Looking at her, he was pleased to see she appeared more inquisitive than frightened or offended. She was studying the bulge in his pants with open curiosity. He took the opportunity to again assault her neck with kisses before pushing her back so he could finally begin to unveil her form.

Taking the sleeves of her nightdress, he pulled them down her arms, revealing her chest just above her bosom. Although her bountiful breasts were what he most wanted to see, he would wait until she was ready. Looking at her face, he was hugely disappointed by what he saw.

She was not ready.

She had her eyes shut tightly as if she expected this would hurt. He fought a small twinge of frustration, reminding himself of his resolve. Obviously he would need to slow the pace somewhat and make a different move. He placed a firm, reassuring kiss on her lips before moving to kiss her collarbone and chest. Then slowly, smoothly, he brought his hands to lightly touch the objects of his desire at their sides. Her eyes opened and she relaxed into his touch. He brought his thumbs to the gloriously soft undersides of his idols, cupping them obsessively. She sighed, her head briefly coming up to kiss him atop his hair as she buried her hands in his thick curls.

When he brought his thumbs up to lightly brush over the tips of the hardened tips, a helpless sound akin to a whimper came from the back of her throat. Emboldened, he began to massage her there. She pushed her chest up into his ministrations. When he added his mouth to his attentions, her whimpers began in earnest. He continued in this vein for a while (to her immense pleasure). When she began to writhe, he knew he had her where he wanted her. Pulling the dress down to her waist, he beheld what was underneath.

Dear. God.

Before him was the most perfect pair of breasts he could ever imagine. Somewhere in his lust-induced haze he had a thought about being the luckiest of all men. Immediately he reached to touch them. Their softness drove him to that dangerous place he knew he would get to at some point tonight. He was in real danger of losing himself now. Looking down at her, he thought that might not be so bad at this point. She was clearly in the drunken sort of haze he wanted her in. Giving himself some leeway, he dove for the first available perfect breast. She moaned and arched her back, giving him better access. Losing himself in the bounty literally in his face, he caressed and suckled as if his life depended on it.

At some point, he hardly knew when himself, he had reached for the hem of her gown and worked his way up her long, shapely legs. Before he knew it, he was stroking the inside of her thigh. As she continued to moan, writhe and hold his head to her bosom, he slipped a finger inside of her. She started.

"Darcy! What – wait…"

He looked up. Her words were protestations, but her eyes were still heavy-lidded with drunkenness. He shook his head at her. "Sshhh," he soothed. "Lie back, dearest. You will enjoy it."

_Just you wait and see, my innocent beauty._

She did as he said (albeit hesitantly), and he began to move his finger inside her, all the while continuing his attention to her breasts in between his caresses and kisses over other adjacent areas. Very presently, she did begin to sigh at his ministrations. He slipped another finger inside of her, letting them glide rhythmically. She began to writhe again. His fingers continued to move, alternating in ways he knew would bring her the most pleasure. _She_ seemed hardly to know what to do with herself. She moaned – oh, god, her moans! They were so stimulating! – and writhed and thrashed her head, pulling at his hair so tightly it hurt.

He loved it.

_"Darcy!"_ she moaned. "I cannot – _aaagh_, _oooo!_ What is – _mmmm!_ Happening?!"

"Just surrender to it, love," he said gruffly. He had not meant to take her this far, but as the moment was upon them anyway, he watched with absolute voyeuristic rapture as his beloved Lizzy reached the first climax of her life.

Afterwards, she lay there quivering and breathing hard, her eyes gazing at him in disbelief and utter adoration. "What _was _that?" she asked breathlessly. "Was that supposed to happen?"

He smiled. "It most certainly was. And there is more where it came from."

She looked at him so incredulously that he threw his head back and laughed. He kissed her fondly on her smiling lips then went back to his earlier attentions to her exposed skin, giving her a chance to recover and heat back up for the main event.

As her body began to calm it was evident that her ecstatic climax had done much in finally persuading her to give herself up fully to the experience. The abandon with which she responded to, and reciprocated, his resumed suckling, kissing, and caressing was truly a relief for her near-frenzied husband. Without further ado, he grabbed her nightdress, encouraging her to raise her hips to allow him to remove it. Gazing down at her, he was overwhelmed by masculine appreciation for what he saw.

"Do I please you?" She asked in a shocking display of newly acquired sultriness.

He looked at her in such a way as to warn her that she was toying with fire. "Exceedingly so," he responded hoarsely.

She lowered her eyes for a moment before boldly returning with a mischievously seductive smile and saying, "Well, I have shown you mine…"

He could hardly believe she was now teasing him so. Earlier, she was too shy to even let him look upon her. He shook his head. _A singular woman indeed!_ Either way, he was more than gratified to grant her implied request. Leaning back, (still unable to tear his eyes away from her form – dear God, her form!) he swiftly discarded his shirt before attacking the buttons on his breeches. She watched him with a new hunger, her chest rising and falling enticingly with every swift breath she took.

Standing up, he allowed her to take in his tall frame while lowering his breeches to the floor before kicking them unceremoniously aside. Her eyes widened at what she saw. Still, she did not look away. Far from it, she reached out for him. He took her hand, but instead of joining her on the rug he pulled her to her feet before sweeping her right off them again into his arms.

The moment had come.

Their eyes locked. In hers, he saw only eagerness and abandon. He stared back, all hungry purposefulness. Walking with her towards his room, he felt her breath on his ear as she asked, "Will you stay with me all night?"

He nodded as they reached the threshold. "All night, my love."

"You will not go?"

He shook his head, nudging the door to a sound close behind them.

No; no, he would not go. Not ever.


	4. Epilogue

A/N: Hiya, folks! Here's the epilogue I was asked for. You asked, you received. Thanks again for the support!

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Epilogue

Elizabeth awoke to a small shaft of sunlight filtering through a divide in the heavy drapes in her room. Behind her, she felt a heavenly warm firmness that confused her. That is, until she realized it must be her husband's body. Instantly, she recalled the feverish night before, when she had become a wife. Her blush spread from her hairline all the way down her chest. Looking over, she saw his sleeping form spooned against her. His hand was firmly grasping her hips and one of his legs lay draped over hers. She blushed even deeper at the very intimacy of such a position. Then she rolled her eyes at her own silliness. _Compared to the things I let him do to me last night, this is child's play, _she laughed to herself.

Turning over gently so as not to wake him, she stared into his beloved face. It was turned away from her, his red mouth parted with his soft breathing. He looked so young. Like a child. But she had certainly found out last night that he was anything but a child!

She smiled bashfully as the memories flooded back. When they reached the bedroom, he'd laid her down so gently on this very bed. He was so tender as he spoke to her of the possible pain, coaching her to lie still. When he finally entered her, there was pain. But it had subsided as she lay beneath him, the recipient of adoring kisses and caresses. He was no poet; words would never be his main avenue for communicating his love. But what he could not put into words, he always said beautifully with those dark eyes. And now she knew all his other forms of communication, too.

When he began moving, it was like every other thing in the world faded; it was only the two of them and the exquisite sensations they made one another feel. She had never known such pleasure before, pleasure almost to the point of pain. And when release came for them both, it was…

She reached for the word. She shook her head as it came to her that there wasn't one. _It was simply indescribable_, she thought dreamily.

After that initial consummation it took them quite some time to recover. He'd rested on top of her, still within her, for a while. When he finally rolled off, they'd laid there staring at each other, into each other, for the longest time. Finally, he tucked her in close to him and watched over her as she drifted off into sleep.

A few hours later, she had awakened to desperate hands all over her. Someone needed her attention. She gladly gave it to him in a union somehow even more urgent than the first. After that, they had talked for under an hour until he was ready to go a third time. That coming together had been unhurried and sweet. She had looked right into his eyes as he moved slowly over her. She'd felt like she could see into his very soul. Never had she known such intimacy existed. And to feel so protected, so worshipped, so adored as well – there was nothing like it.

She reached out and brushed her fingers over his mouth. Pushing his hair away from his face, she kissed his forehead gently.

"I love you, my handsome husband," she whispered. He stirred in response.

Smiling, she nuzzled his nose with hers. "I adore you, my handsome husband." He murmured something unintelligible and twitched his nose. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Positioning herself over him, she laid down fully atop him, her flesh against his. She kissed his neck and moved to his ear.

"I need you to make love to me again, my handsome husband."

That earned a more powerful response. His sleepy hands moved to cup her bottom and he ground his hips languidly into hers. Even in an unconscious state he was willing to accommodate her!

Seeing he was an even heavier sleeper than she had realized, she resorted to dusting his chest and neck with full, loud kisses. She moved down to his abdomen, boldly snaking her tongue out into his navel. That did it.

"Oh, Lizzy," he groaned, coming to. She slowly kissed her way back up his chest, letting her breasts drag behind where she went. His hands were still on her bottom, which he began kneading. She purred into his neck at the sensation.

"I am in need of your attentions, sir."

Flipping her hair over to move it out of the way, she kissed him deeply.

He smiled against her mouth. "I only wish to serve you, mi'lady," he replied.

And he did. Oh, he did.

~ The End ~

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A/N: Comments welcome.


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